


restitution of a hollowed soul

by fatiguedfern



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: F/M, Gen, Introspection, M/M, Spoilers, but the concept is mentioned, ish, this isn't actually a soulmate au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-31
Updated: 2017-05-31
Packaged: 2018-11-07 10:44:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11057316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fatiguedfern/pseuds/fatiguedfern
Summary: He dreams of dormant suns and dying stars and fallen kings and faceless seamstresses.





	restitution of a hollowed soul

Perhaps his logic was merely failing him, but soulmates had been a concept that Shuuichi always readily accepted. 

Perhaps it had only been his yearning to need something to fill the gaps within his own ruptured heart, but the first time he stumbles across Plato’s theorised history of soulmates, his longing for his own increases tenfold. 

Perhaps if the gods truly had ripped his soul apart, split it in two, it would give him a reason to feel incomplete.

Perhaps his fulfilled need to be incomplete would sate his own emptiness.

,

His eyes struggle to adjust to the searing light that cuts through the remnants of the darkness of the shadowed locker he tumbles out of. The blinding smile that the girl he’s finally greeted through a shaky introduction shoots him does even less to soothe his scalded iris’s. 

The girl, Akamatsu, takes his hand and leads him out the door with enthusiasm he can never hope to match, much less understand. And with her warm fingers intertwined with his he almost feels whole again.

,

Tears track down Akamatsu’s face and Shuuichi wishes with all his fickle might that he was able to wipe the liquid guilt from her cheeks. But she’s staring at him with the pleading gaze of a lioness trapped in a slaughtering house; prideful and grave. And then she appears to be almost begging him to sentence her to her own execution and he’s pointing a lone trembling, accusatory finger at her and she’s spewing apologies and encouragements across the trial room. 

But her regrets are halted by a metal collar clamping down around her neck, dragging her away. Shuuichi desperately reaches for her outstretched hand and he can almost feel the warmth on her fingertips before she’s ripped away from him. 

All that he feels is the warmth slipping through his fingers while a familiar frost envelops him.

, 

That night he dreams of looking down upon fields of green and seas of clear blue. He teeters on the edge of the soft clouds that he’s perched on, hoping to get a better view. 

“Watch out! You might slip, Saihara-kun,” a melodious voice chastises. 

“Huh?” a bewildered Shuuichi exclaims as a warm hand lands on his shoulder. 

The figure laughs; her smile not nearly as bright as it once was, but still outshining every star in the galaxy with only the smouldering embers of what she once was. The dormant sun’s smile turns almost teasing.

“Forget me so soon?”

“No.” Shuuichi’s voice is far too firm for someone as weak-willed as himself, but he pays it no heed. “Never.”

They fall into a comfortable silence after that; the only noise filling the space between them the light rustle of trees below and the gentle lapping of waves. Shuuichi dreads the inevitable break in the tranquillity.

“You know,” the sun pauses to look him in the eye, “Sometimes it’s better to forget.”

He huffs. “Easier, yes.” Shuuichi takes her hand in his and traces the too short a lifeline across her palm. “Better, no. I- I don't want to forget. ”

The sun frees her hand from Shuuichi’s hold and presses both of her palms to the sides of his face, causing heat to seep into Shuuichi’s frost-bitten cheeks. “Then don’t.” She presses a light kiss to his forehead and fades without any other flourish.

Shuuichi wakes with the need to exude his own warmth.

,

He hasn’t seen Momota since dinner and he’d be lying if he said that he wasn’t worried that this was the third training session in a row that Momota had blown off. Calling off the session and saying his goodbyes to Harukawa, Shuuichi goes off in search of the astronaut.

He’s about to pass the male bathrooms when he hears the wretching. Panicked, Shuuichi enters the bathroom in a hurry, but the sight that lies in front of him causes him to stop in his tracks.

Momota is bent over the toilet bowl with the door left slightly ajar, just enough for Shuuichi to be able to see, and a thin trail of blood dribbling down his chin.

,

That night he dreams of sprawling out across a checkered blanket beneath the stars.

“Holy shit! You can see the entire Milky Way from here!”

Shuuichi looks behind him and is met with the dying star glowing in his own flickering light, looking almost ethereal in the dying light. And then Shuuichi’s eyes fixate on the star’s smile and, though pained, it might even rival the sun’s brightness.

“Hey, uh, do you want to sit down?” Shuuichi asks unsurely.

“Nah,” the star’s smile seems slightly disheartened, “got places to be. Maybe next time.”

Shuuichi knows that there’d be no next time; the star’s light flickering dangerously dim. Nevertheless, he reciprocates the smile.

Ruffling Shuuichi’s hair and placing a sloppy kiss on his hand, the star walks away. Shuuichi watches as he fades away into the distance while the starry sky bleeds into dawn.

Shuuichi wakes with the need to light his own path.

,

 

Ouma is possibly the only one of his classmates that he completely fails to understand. The boy could switch between wide-eyed innocent and malicious dictator within a matter of seconds. Despite this, Shuuichi still found himself seeking out Ouma with a hesitant friendship in hand. 

Ouma’s locations were scattered across the prison and he never had a set idea of where he was, which gave his avoidance of the boy all the more validation. But, of course, Ouma had the horrid habit of appearing when he was most unwelcome. 

Days like these left Shuuichi on the brink of mental exhaustion, but he learns to almost enjoy the provocation Ouma’s conversation brings. 

Right up until Ouma eliminates both Gokuhara and Iruma and walks away unscathed.

,

That night he dreams of waking within what would seem to be the ruins of a castle. 

Atop his crumbling throne, the fallen king grins down at him impishly. “Kind of you to join me Saihara-chan!”

“Oh, uh, hello,” Shuuichi stutters out.

The king hops down from his throne, rubble scattering at his feet. He approaches Shuuichi with deceptive enthusiasm that the detective isn’t quite sure what to make of.

Despite the king’s short stature, his presence is commanding as he beckons to Shuuichi to follow him. He’s led into a decaying banquet hall with a mahogany table that stretches far enough that he loses sight of the end. The king settles himself at the head of the table. Then gestures for Shuuichi to sit beside him at his right. 

A chipped glass chess set is laid out in front of them and the king raises a questioning eyebrow at Shuuichi as he sips from his dented goblet. Shuuichi’s never been completely clear on the rules of chess, but the king doesn’t seem to be giving him a choice in the matter.

It’s clear from the moment that the king moves his pawn forward that he’s in complete control. Though it’s apparent that the king could end the game at any moment, he stretches his victory out.

“I’d appreciate it if you’d stop prolonging this. You’re holding back.” 

“Hmm, and why would I do that?” The king laughs. “I’m a liar after all.” And beneath a thick layer of scorn, he can see the hate towards his self-crafted isolation. “I’m nothing but a lying villain, right?”

Shuuichi pauses, his hand still brushing the top of his glass queen. “No, I don’t think so. Not anymore.” And the king smiles at that, as genuine as he could. 

“Stalemate,” the king declares, standing up. He slips the battered crown from his head and places it on Shuuichi’s own, then presses a chaste kiss to his lips before turning on his heel and disappearing from Shuuichi’s line of sight.

Shuuichi wakes with the need to recognise his own demons before he slays them.

,

For the first time since Shuuichi had met her, Shirogane’s eyes aren’t glazed over. Her gaze is alight with a desperation that he recalls often seeing within his own. 

It feels almost surreal watching as Shirogane’s face shifts and contorts into features that he can barely remember. With each twist of her face the desperation lingers; haunting her eyes.

He wishes he could hate her, perhaps even pity her. But no, all he feels is empathy. And then, as he, Yumeno and Harukawa push out of the debris and all that remains of her shapeshifting form is blood-splattered boulder.

And Shuuichi’s left to wonder if her eyes had remained as empty as his own when being crushed beneath her dead dreams. 

,

That night he dreams of lying curled up on a tarred road. The street is thankfully silent and he isn’t overwhelmed by growling motors and murmuring crowds. 

He attempts to prop himself up, only for his body to be weighed down by something attaching itself to his back. He tries to crane his neck backwards to no avail. 

With a heave, he pushes himself and the dead weight into something akin to a sitting position. Now, finally able to get a better view of what had latched onto his body, he notices that whatever had joined itself to him is connected to his back and nape with stitched red thread. The stitches are neat and must have taken great skill, and perhaps if the result wasn’t sewn into his body, he might’ve admired the work more. 

Before he can investigate further, he spots a few strands of dull blue hair hanging over his shoulder and he tries to jerk away from the unconscious girl, yet again only for his actions to hold no purpose. 

The jerking motion does however seem to finally startle the unconscious girl awake and she drags him with her as she stretches her limbs. 

Voice heavy with confusion, Shuuichi asks, “I don’t suppose you know why we’re like this, do you?”

“...You can probably figure that out for yourself.”

It wasn’t what he thought it would be, having someone so close to him that he can hardly differentiate his heartbeat from another’s. Now that he had finally been introduced to this fated companionship, and perhaps it was due to the girl’s soul being as hollowed as his own, but he felt all the more alone.

“This is your work right? The sewing? It’s, uh, well done.” 

Shuuichi can almost hear a hint of pride in the seamstress’s tone as she says, “Yeah, I couldn’t decide whether to go with a whip stitch or a zigzag stitch, so I…” She trails off before she finishes her thought and Shuuichi is left to ponder her sewing techniques.

“You sound different here. I can’t really tell why, but… you just do.”

Shuuichi thinks she taps her chin by the way his skin stretches. “Well, that’s not really surprising. I’m only a figment of your rejected memories after all. Though I am surprised that you noticed something like that about _me_ at all.”

“...”

“Ah! I almost forgot,” the seamstress grips at her face behind him. She slides a mask with a painted face his way. “Here, add it to your collection.”

Shuuichi picks apart the mask with his gaze, peeling away at the painted smile. “...No thank you. I’ve had quite enough of hiding.” 

And he stands, the red thread straining against his movements and then finally snapping. He marches forward on the road until his surroundings fade away.

Shuuichi wakes with the need to mend his own soul. And like always, with time and through broken memories, he complies.


End file.
